Once upon a time, in a dense and mysterious forest, there lived a little witch named Kittle. Kittle was not your traditional witch with a pointy hat and a broomstick. Instead, she had curly ginger hair and freckles scattered across her face. Kittle had always been fascinated with the magical arts, but she had a unique talent that set her apart from other witches. She had the ability to switch things around with just a wave of her wand. Whether it was swapping places between two objects or exchanging the personalities of two individuals, Kittle had an incredible power to make things switch.
The overarching story – which Gross is happy to abandon for extended periods of time – concerns a missing will hidden by Cindy’s deceased grandfather. The seven dwarves, Pinocchio, the three little pigs, the ugly duckling and others are there to help her, but are mostly hindrances. Grandmother occasionally writes herself into the story for no apparent reason.
Pinocchio, who is key to the story, looks ridiculous like a young Angry Anderson reimagined with a huge honker and speaks with a whiny moppet-like drawl, clearly an adult pretending to be a child or somebody who has just inhaled a helium balloon. A friendly goblin who lives in the well gives him a dreidel to replace the one he lost, but this one is magic and creates latkes potato pancakes with sour cream and applesauce.
Whether it was swapping places between two objects or exchanging the personalities of two individuals, Kittle had an incredible power to make things switch. Despite her extraordinary abilities, Kittle was a shy and reserved witch. She preferred spending her time alone in the peaceful depths of the forest, surrounded by its soothing whispers and enchanting aromas.
The Magic Riddle rewatched – a fairytale mishmash told with chaotic energy
T he concept of an unreliable narrator has twisted films in all sorts of interesting directions since the early years of cinema. Germany blew audience’s minds with the expressionist head trip The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, the entire 1920 film revealed to be a nightmare cooked up by a straitjacket-clad madman.
The Japanese master Akira Kurosawa famously relayed conflicting accounts of the same event from three different people in Rashomon. Hollywood’s form in this field probably peaked during its noir years, when men on the wrong side of the law – typically dying or about to be caught, such as in Double Indemnity and Detour – reflected in highly subjective detail about everything that went wrong.
Australian cinema’s most spectacular unreliable narrator comes from an unlikely place: an animated musical from 1991 called The Magic Riddle. The film was written and directed by the nearest thing local cinema has produced to a Down Under Walt Disney: the prolific Yoram Gross, whose best-known work is 1977’s Dot and the Kangaroo.
The story, which follows a young woman named Cindy (short for Cinderella) who lives with a wicked stepmother and has eyes for a hunky Gaston-like local man, is introduced by a kind elderly woman known only as Grandmother.
Her presence is like a reverse Keyser Söze: instead of discovering at the end of the film that her story was made up, she comes clean at the start. Grandmother confesses she can’t clearly remember the details of the tale she is about to tell and states via rhyming verse she has confused it with fairytales (“Are Cinderella and the seven dwarves in the plot? Or what about that Snow White dwarf – was he there, or maybe not?”).
The befuddled yarn-spinner then says to hell with it and declares she will tell the story as best she can. Everything we see is a visualisation of her muddled memory, projecting a nonsense anachronistic universe that doesn’t make sense.
Cindy drives a horse and carriage, for example, but wears a crop top and jeans, the story based in neither past nor present. Grandmother’s inability to separate reality from fairytales also affords Gross carte blanche to pilfer parts from an endless array of sources.
And pilfer he does. Pinocchio, who is key to the story, looks ridiculous (like a young Angry Anderson reimagined with a huge honker) and speaks with a whiny moppet-like drawl, clearly an adult pretending to be a child – or somebody who has just inhaled a helium balloon.
To say this is a homage would be to put it generously. The Magic Riddle is more like wholesale rip-off, told with a chaotically energetic spirit that hopscotches between a mismatched array of plot lines involving rinky-dink versions of familiar characters.
The overarching story – which Gross is happy to abandon for extended periods of time – concerns a missing will hidden by Cindy’s deceased grandfather. The seven dwarves, Pinocchio, the three little pigs, the ugly duckling and others are there to help her, but are mostly hindrances. Grandmother occasionally writes herself into the story for no apparent reason.
The villain, known as The Widow, is a manically aggressive piece of work: a wicked stepmother quite unlike any other. She has one tooth, clown-like black hair and bounces around in a low-cut top spilling enormous cleavage, yelping songs with lyrics such as “I’m mean, mean, mean, it’s great to be mean!” and periodically flashing her underwear.
It’s a hell of a film, somewhere between can’t watch and can’t look away. The visual makeup is more polished, and certainly more Disney-esque, than a lot of Gross’s output. All his previous work overlaid animation on to live-action backgrounds but The Magic Riddle was completely drawn, comprising about 65,000 illustrations.
The quality of the songs differs wildly, the lyrics largely consisting of basic rhymes (“where did she come from where did she go / there’s so much about her that I don’t know”). Some are catchy; others sound like tracks the authorities at Gitmo might use to extract information from suspects.
At the time the most expensive animated movie produced in Australia, The Magic Riddle is nevertheless unable to shirk the sense it’s a déclassé version of a Disney princess story. But there’s one thing it cannot be faulted on: the construction of an utterly and insanely unreliable narrator. That lovely glassy-eyed Grandmother ranks among cinema’s best, and worst.
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And pilfer he does. Pinocchio, who is key to the story, looks ridiculous (like a young Angry Anderson reimagined with a huge honker) and speaks with a whiny moppet-like drawl, clearly an adult pretending to be a child – or somebody who has just inhaled a helium balloon.
The woodland creatures, recognizing her kind nature, would often seek her company and share their stories with her. One sunny morning, while Kittle was strolling through the woods, she noticed a peculiar commotion near a small pond. Curiosity piqued, she approached the gathering creatures to investigate. To her surprise, she found a frog and a squirrel engaged in an intense argument. The frog, named Fergus, claimed that squirrels were the worst tree climbers, while the squirrel, named Hazel, insisted that frogs were terrible swimmers. Their heated debate drew the attention of other forest dwellers, who had gathered around, forming a small circle. Kittle, not one to tolerate discord, intervened and proposed a switch. She requested Fergus and Hazel to temporarily switch their abilities, allowing Fergus to experience the world as a squirrel and Hazel as a frog. Both reluctantly agreed to see things from the other's perspective. With a flick of her wand, Kittle cast the switching spell, and in an instant, Fergus became an agile squirrel, effortlessly leaping from branch to branch. Hazel, on the other hand, transformed into a skillful swimmer, gliding through the pond with grace. As Fergus explored his newfound abilities, he realized the challenges squirrels faced while climbing trees. It required agility, balance, and a deep understanding of the environment. Similarly, Hazel, experiencing life as a frog, saw the dangers of predators in the pond and the importance of precise movements to catch prey. When the switched abilities wore off, Fergus and Hazel returned to their original forms but with newfound respect and understanding for one another. Their argument dissolved, replaced by friendship and admiration. News of Kittle's spell quickly spread throughout the forest, and other creatures sought her help in resolving their disputes and misunderstandings. Kittle would listen carefully, evaluate the situation, and propose a switch that would allow both parties to experience life from the other's perspective. Over time, the Kittle witch became a beloved figure in the forest, known for her extraordinary powers of switching. She used her unique talent not to cause mischief, but to foster empathy, understanding, and unity among the creatures of the woods. And so, Kittle continued to roam the forest, her simple presence a reminder of the power of empathy and how walking in someone else's shoes can bridge divides and bring about harmony. The little witch in the woods had truly become an agent of change, one wand flick at a time..
Reviews for "The Kittle Witch's Switch: A Key to Unlocking Magical Abilities"
- Emma - 2 stars - I was really disappointed with "Kittle witch in the woods switch". The story felt disjointed and the characters were poorly developed. I struggled to connect with any of them and found myself losing interest halfway through. The writing itself was also lacking, with repetitive phrases and a lack of descriptive language. Overall, I found this book to be a letdown and wouldn't recommend it.
- David - 1 star - I found "Kittle witch in the woods switch" to be incredibly boring and predictable. The plot was unoriginal and lacked any sense of excitement or suspense. The characters were one-dimensional and their actions felt forced and unrealistic. The writing style was also dull and uninspiring. I struggled to finish this book and would not recommend it to anyone looking for an enjoyable read.
- Sarah - 2 stars - "Kittle witch in the woods switch" was not what I expected at all. The pacing was off, with long periods of nothing happening followed by rushed and unsatisfying resolutions. The story itself felt lacking in depth and substance, leaving me feeling unsatisfied at the end. I also found the dialogue to be unrealistic and the characters to be underdeveloped. Overall, I did not enjoy this book and would not recommend it to others.
- Michael - 2 stars - I had high hopes for "Kittle witch in the woods switch", but unfortunately, it fell flat for me. The plot felt cliché and unoriginal, and the characters were not well-developed. I found myself predicting every twist and turn, which made the book's ending feel unsatisfying. Additionally, the writing style was lackluster and failed to draw me in. Overall, I was disappointed with this book and would not recommend it to others.